


Lessons

by fhsa_archivist



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-06
Updated: 2006-04-06
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Notes: Written in response to Eil's plea for 'cheer me up' fic.  Special thanks to Josan for the French lesson and to Marcus and Em for the enthusiastic encouragement.





	1. Chapter 1  Lessons Learned Or: Don't Make the Cajun Cry

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: see title  


* * *

The only thing I could figure was that he'd somehow used his damned empathy to keep me asleep while he did it.

 

The little shit.

 

I mean, c'mon, what other explanation could there be? No way do I sleep deeply enough to not waken while someone creeps into my room - in the dead of night, mind you - and ties me to my own freakin' bed. I knew the kid was a thief. Talented at the old silent entry thing, sure, but talented enough to get past even my defenses?

 

Uh uh. Not a chance in hell!

 

Nevertheless, there he was - and there I was. Yanking at my bonds, I growled a warning at him.

 

He smirked, tilted his head to one side, and said in an irritatingly self-satisfied tone, "My turn, cher."

 

In my agitated state, I wasn't about to consider that he might be right. I resolutely ignored the pictures flashing through my mind. Pictures of the times I'd done this to him. Pictures of the way he'd gracefully submitted to my whims. Pictures of him twisting in agonized pleasure while I touched him.

 

Dammit.

 

I released my blades and tried like hell to cut through the ropes binding me. The amused way in which he watched my efforts only increased my determination to get free. When I accepted that he'd been clever enough to tie me in such a way that I couldn't reach the ropes, I started pulling with all of my strength.

 

"They won't give, Logan."

 

His words only inspired me to pull harder. Although the ropes showed no signs of weakness, the wooden bedposts he'd tied me to creaked ominously.

 

"Y'r gonna break de bed, cher."

 

"Fuck the fucking bed! I'm gonna break your fucking *neck*."

 

"And den?"

 

"And then I'm gonna go back to sleep, you no-good-Cajun-sonofabitch."

 

"Ah." He nodded, unsurprised and - what? - resigned, maybe. "So... y' can dish it out, but y' can' take it, eh?"

 

That gave me pause. For a moment.

 

He pressed his advantage. "Remy don' use *his* powers 'gainst y', Logan. Not in bed."

 

Okay. He did have a point there. Still... dammit, submission is just *not* in my nature. I don't trust anyone enough to allow this. Never had and never would.

 

Or so I thought.

 

"What y' 'fraid of, Logan. Remy won' hurt y'."

 

Afraid? *AFRAID*?

 

Wolverine is afraid of nothing. *Nothing*!

 

Growling, I renewed my efforts to get free. He watched me for a moment, then shrugged fatalistically.

 

"'Kay. Hold still for a moment. I'll set y' free."

 

Which was exactly what I wanted. Right? Yeah, right! The disappointed tone of his voice would not bother me. Neither would the sad expression in his eyes. This was *his* fault. Who the hell did he think he was for godssake? Actually thinking that I would allow myself to be tied up in this humiliating way. Would let him do to me what I'd done to him...

 

With efficient motions, he pulled out a switchblade and sliced through my bonds. Lunging up, I attempted to get my hands on him. The slippery bastard danced away, eluding me easily.

 

"No."

 

That was all he said. 'No.' But, I had this uneasy feeling about the way he said it... It wasn't just a 'No-you-can't-catch-me' kind of a teasing thing. There was a certain finality about the word that reached past my anger and made my stomach clench.

 

"Whaddya mean, 'no'?"

 

He paused at the door, one hand on the knob. "I mean no. No, y' ain' gonna hurt me. No, y' ain' gonna punish me. No, we ain' gonna play dis game no more. Just... no."

 

He left then. As silently as he'd crept in, he crept out.

 

Exactly as I wished. Just like that, he did as I'd asked. I flopped back down onto the bed, shifting around until I was comfortable, and waited for sleep to return.

 

And waited.

 

And waited...

 

Eventually, after much tossing and turning, I gave it up and climbed out of bed. Started pacing restlessly around the room. I couldn't get him out of my mind. That disappointed tone. The reproachful way he'd spoken. The finality in his voice when he'd said that the 'game' was over.

 

Shit. Damn. Fuck. *Shit*! What the hell was my problem? I could live without the sex. Sure he was hot - hotter than a firecracker - but I'd had plenty of great sex in my life and could very easily replace him.

 

Very easily, godammit.

 

I took a long, relaxing shower, banishing all thoughts of him from my mind, then got back into bed. Punched the pillow into submission and concentrated on the trip I'd be taking to my favorite club in the very near future. Pictured the way whomever I picked up would submit to my whims.

 

Problem was, my mind insisted on morphing the unknown partner into Remy.

 

Even worse, I kept imagining our roles reversed. Me restrained, him touching me with clever, clever fingers. Tasting me. Making lo-

 

Whoa!

 

Making love?! Oh no. Nononono.

 

Disgusted by my wayward thoughts, I got up and pulled on a ragged pair of sweats. I'd go for a run. That would clear my head.

 

Unfortunately, I had to pass his room on my way to the stairway. I tried to hurry past, determined to not waver in my resolve. It was over and I didn't care.

 

I didn't fucking *care*. He'd been a momentary aberration, dammit. Just a way to get my rocks off. An indulgence. No more than that. I didn't need him.

 

His light was on, though, and he was talking aloud, scolding himself for being a fool. And, damn my heightened senses, I could hear every word.

 

"Y'r a fool, Remy," he said.

 

"Should have known better. Good 'nough for a quick fuck, but dat's all. Face it, homme, he t'inks y'r a whore jus' like de others."

 

"What made y' t'ink he was any different, eh? Once a whore, always a whore."

 

Such a wealth of sadness in his words...

 

Against my will, I paused. Debated. Inwardly arguing with myself, half of me insisting that I was doing the right thing, the other half drawn to his pain.

 

"Y' c'n have anyone," Remy insisted to himself. "*Anyone*! Don' need him."

 

Then... a loud *boom* as he threw something - something he'd obviously charged - against the door.

 

I jumped at the noise and frowned. Jesus, he really was upset. To lose control and destroy one of his precious doo-dads indicated that I'd hurt him far more than I'd imagined.

 

A shaky sigh sounded, and I heard his bedsprings creak in protest as he threw himself on the mattress.

 

"Fuck it," he mumbled. "Fuck all of dem. Don' need *him*. Don' need anyone."

 

And he started crying.

 

Bad enough that I could smell his tears, I really didn't need to hear him - or have this mental picture of him stretched across his bed, face buried in a pillow in an attempt to muffle the sounds of his weeping.

 

I was still firmly telling myself that I would *not* give in to him when I opened the door and walked into his room. He gasped at my entrance, propped himself up on one elbow, and turned his head to glare fiercely in my direction.

 

The effect was somewhat diminished by his tear-stained face and hitching breaths.

 

"Go 'way. Y' made y'rself clear. Remy won' be bot'erin' y' 'gain."

 

I raised one hand and shushed him with an impatient gesture. "Look... I... I didn't mean ta hurt ya, Rem. It's just that-"

 

Turning his back to me, he pulled a pillow over his head. "I said go 'way!"

 

"No," I refused. "Yer gonna listen ta me, kid. Then, if ya still want me ta leave, I will."

 

He sighed and tossed the pillow aside. "D'accord. Parle!"

 

"I can't... " Jesus, this was more difficult than I'd thought, this 'baring my soul' shit. I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. "Remy, being tied up... well, it scares me. I have nightmares about being restrained. And hurt."

 

"Logan, I didn' wan' t' do dat to y'. Frighten y', I mean." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I jus'... I t'ought dat mebbe... I t'ought y' might be willing t' let m'-"

 

"Be on top?" I broke in.

 

"Oui. Ain' ever had dat wit' a man, y'see."

 

Drawing in a deep breath, I reached out and touched his shoulder. "How about if we try it a different way?"

 

Confused, he rolled over to face me and frowned. "Diff'rent how?"

 

"Without restraints."

 

"Y' wan' t' fuck Remy wit'out tyin' him down?"

 

"No, idiot."

 

His frown deepened. "Den what?"

 

"The opposite."

 

"Oh," he said, mentally chewing on my words. Then, as the light dawned, "OH! Oh, oui! I'd like dat, cher."

 

Before I could change my mind, I stripped and joined him in bed. "Get yer clothes off and do it then," I said roughly.

 

He hesitated. "Logan, we don' have t'-"

 

"Remy..." I growled impatiently.

 

After searching my face for signs of reluctance - and apparently not finding any - he grinned and disrobed. He joined me under the blankets, and, well, much as it pains me to admit this, he rocked my fucking world.

 

He sucked, he licked, and he nibbled. And he touched me - everywhere. By the time he got around to actually fucking me, I was pretty much an incoherent wreck. It was... it was the first time a lover - yes, I said 'lover' - had taken the time to search out and satisfy *my* needs.

 

It was also the first time I'd allowed anyone to top me. Well, the first time as far as I could remember...

 

I loved it! Reveled in the sensations he offered to me so generously. Arched into his every touch. Participated enthusiastically. Hell, I even pushed my shameless ass against him, begging silently for *more*, *harder*, *FASTER*.

 

Everything I asked of him, he gave. I couldn't have possibly wished for a better introduction to the joys of being fu- Shit! I guess I have to admit it now. He - we - made love that night.

 

Just as we have on numerous occasions since.

 

Incredibly, it just keeps getting better with time.

 

Maybe, one day, I'll break down and give it another try. Let him tie me up and have his wicked way with me. After all, I do know that he won't hurt me now. I actually trust him.

 

Amazing, huh?

 

Oh. Gotta run. He's on his way up to our room now. I can smell him getting closer. If - no, when - I decide to give the restraint thing another try I'll be sure to let you know all about it.


	2. Chapter 2  Introductory Course

  
Author's notes: Prequel to Lessons Learned, second (well, actually first) in the Lessons series.   


* * *

Logan:

 

It all started when Cyclops rolled up his sleeves that day. The air conditioning had failed us - on the hottest day of summer, of course - and he thoughtlessly shoved the arms of his long-sleeved t-shirt back above his elbows.

 

I had vaguely wondered why he'd chosen that style of shirt on such a warm day. But, considering his peculiar ideas about how a Fearless Leader should dress, I'd shrugged and returned my attention to the kata I used to warm up before workouts.

 

Then he rolled back those sleeves and I saw 'em. Ligature marks. Noticing my stare, Cyke glanced down at the reddish lines circling his wrists. Damned if he didn't smirk at them, then look over at Jean. Now, I don't know what telepathic message she sent to him; I can make an educated guess, though, if his flush and her 'cat that ate the canary' expression were anything to go by.

 

I'd thought (when I'd allowed myself to think about it) that Jean and Scott were the poster mutants for vanilla sex. The evidence was pretty much irrefutable, though. They were into bondage! More incredible than that, Cyclops, Mr-always-in-control-and-oh-so-proper, played the 's' part in their D/s games.

 

The fine art of compartmentalization has always been one of my many talents, and I had every intention of shoving this particular realization into my mental folder of 'Things I Will Not Think About'. My mistake was noticing Gambit's expression.

 

I probably shouldn't have met his eyes, either...

 

But I did. His expression was one of curiosity and excitement mixed with fear and longing. It took my breath away, and suddenly the blood in my brain migrated southward. Which was not good. Not good at all.

 

Don't get me wrong, I like games as well as the next guy, but Gambit was a teammate. A very young (by my standards) teammate. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to soothe his fears. Show him how good it could be to submit. To be restrained while someone - yes, I am the someone I pictured in my mind - touched him, fucked him. I wanted to spend hours teasing him with fingers, tongue, and teeth. To take him to a place I was sure he'd never visited, granting him release only when he was incoherent with need.

 

However, not only was the kid... well, a kid; he was also, by all appearances, straight. As far as I could tell, and I had been watching, all of his lovers were of the female persuasion.

 

I made a mental note to visit my very favorite 'private' club at the first opportunity and did my damnedest to finish the workout without sustaining injury or delivering bodily harm to anyone.

 

Remy was more than a little distracting. Between the shyly inquisitive looks he kept sending my way, his fascination with the marks on Cyke's wrists, and the nearly overwhelming waves of pheromones I scented on him, I was just about a wreck.

 

Then Gambit stumbled and fell after clumsily avoiding a shot from one of the 'bots. I, being closest to him, held out one hand to pull him to his feet. Which shouldn't have been a problem. If only he'd weighed a little more - or I'd refrained from yanking up with such force - I might have been able to let it go. Unfortunately, he ended up off-balance, plastered to the front of my body. Pressed together as we were, I could hardly miss the increased heartbeat, the heat of his skin, the fact that his cock was every bit as erect as mine.

 

All my good intentions flew right out of the proverbial window. "Tonight," I whispered huskily into his ear.

 

His flush deepened, his breathing increased, and with the slightest of nods, he rushed into the locker room.

 

With raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Cyke called an end to the workout. Once everyone had trailed out except him and Jeannie, they approached me.

 

"Well, well, who'd have ever imagined?"

 

Jean poked Scott's ribs. "Shut up, dear," she said sweetly. "Logan... I'm pretty sure that Remy's new to this. You won't...?"

 

I snorted. "Ain't gonna hurt the kid, Jeannie. You know me better than that."

 

Cyke puffed up indignantly. "And just what the hell does *that* mean?" he demanded to know. "Have you two...?"

 

Turning to face her husband, hands on her hips, Jean merely *looked* at him.

 

"Uh-"

 

"Our room, Scott. Now," was all she said.

 

Damned if he didn't nod abashedly, hang his head and leave the room.

 

With a wink at me, she followed him out of the Danger Room at a leisurely pace.

 

I made sure that Remy stayed within my sights all day. He was jumpy, far more easily spooked than I'd ever seen him. Still, every time I caught him looking at me, his flush reappeared, his heartbeat increased, and the scent of curiosity and desire rolled off of him in waves.

 

His red on black eyes grew evermore haunted as the day progressed. I suppose I should have felt guilty. I simply couldn't, though. I wanted him. Badly. Visions of Remy restrained and at my mercy as he squirmed and panted under my ministrations, ambushed me at every turn.

 

To tell the god's honest truth, I was having the time of my life. The thrill of the hunt, the novelty of a nervous Remy, and thoughts of just how he'd look, restrained, eyes glittering with arousal, hair tousled and slightly damp with sweat, all increased my determination to have him.

 

***

 

Remy:

 

Every time I turned around, there was Logan. In the garage, tuning up my bike, I could feel his eyes on me as he worked on his beloved jeep. I went swimming, hoping to tire myself enough to dull my awareness of him, and he turned up at the poolside puffing happily on one of his cigars. I retreated to the computer room and again, there was Logan. The hotly promising look in his eyes scuttled my attempt to run a diagnostic on the security system.

 

He didn't say anything. Logan isn't the most talkative person I've ever met, but this was quiet, even for him. As if his silent regard wasn't enough, he kept finding ways to touch me. A casual touch of one hand along my shoulders as he passed me. Leaning over my shoulder ostensibly to look at the computer screen while I attempted to complete that diagnostic. He made a point of brushing against me at every opportunity.

 

And the slyly promising looks he kept sending my way... He knew. The bastard was fully aware that I wouldn't turn him away. His smug expression told me that my dazed, muddled, *fucking* humiliating and confusing desire was no secret to him. Which, I suspected, was the point of the exercise. He wanted to keep me off balance, my mind filled with him, too aware of the promise in his eyes to have second thoughts.

 

That was just about the longest day I can remember. Finally - finally! - dinner time arrived. Looking forward to the relief I would find in a crowd, I rushed to the table, arriving before any of the others. Funny thing is, I wasn't even surprised when Logan came in moments later and sat himself right across from me.

 

I choked down the small amount of food I could manage, shoved back my chair and rose, leaving the room with a mumbled apology. In the parlor, I turned on the television and clicked my way through the channels. HBO was showing 'Velvet Goldmine', and I paused there. Just about the time I caught on to the gay theme and moved on to Showtime, Logan walked in.

 

Queer as Folk was on. Naturally. I fumbled the remote, dropping it to the floor in my haste to change the channel.

 

"Leave it on, Gumbo. I ain't seen this one yet," he said, settling right next to me on the sofa.

 

Once I'd managed to retrieve the remote, I shoved it at him and scurried upstairs with more haste than dignity. It had been a difficult day; a long shower and a good night's sleep would help me to relax, I decided. A man like Logan wouldn't - couldn't - interested in a man like me. He'd been teasing, playing a joke on me, that was all.

 

After bathing I was still jumpy, so I looked around for some kind of distraction. I straightened my room, changed the sheets on my bed, and cleaned the bathroom. Even so, my restlessness hadn't abated. Deciding that a brisk walk in the night air would tire me out, I donned sweats and sneakers and opened my door to head outside.

 

***

 

Logan:

 

"Goin' somewhere, kid?" I asked when his door opened.

 

"L-l-logan?"

 

I grunted and pushed past him. "Had that stutter long?"

 

"Um... non," he answered, looking everywhere but at me.

 

"Huh." I sat on the bed and regarded him. I didn't want to, but I couldn't take this any further without asking, "You okay, Gumbo?"

 

"Non. I mean, oui. I mean... Y' been followin' m' all day. Touchin' m', teasin' m'... What y' wan' from Remy?"

 

I shrugged. "Sex. Fun. To show you what you've been missing. I know ya want it, kid. Can smell yer desire and curiosity."

 

"Ain' never done anythin' like dis 'fore, Logan."

 

As if I hadn't realized that. Shit.

 

I knew he wanted it. Was curious and excited by the idea. Leaning back on my elbows, making it just about impossible to miss the visible sign of my desire, I challenged him, "Saw ya looking at Scotty's wrists. Know the idea turns ya on."

 

After scuffling his feet against the carpet, sighing, and glancing at me through his bangs, Remy spoke quietly, "Don' like pain, Logan."

 

Just as I'd thought. "Pain ain't a part of the program, kid. Just pleasure."

 

"Mais..." He licked his lips and moved a little closer. "What...? Why y' wan' m'? Y' never did 'fore."

 

He shrugged. "Things change. Ya ain't a virgin with men, are ya?"

 

"Non."

 

"Is it me yer afraid of, kid?"

 

"Non."

 

"And ya don't have a problem with me being a man?"

 

"Remy ain' straight."

 

I moved on to a discussion of the 'games' issue. "There's a world of difference between bondage and S&M, Remy. The kind of games I enjoy don't involve pain."

 

"Oh." He frowned in thought, then met my eyes. "T'ink I'd like to try, Logan. But... what if it's-"

 

"Too much?" I supplied when his words stuttered to a halt.

 

Remy swallowed heavily and nodded. "Oui," he whispered.

 

"Won't hurt ya, Rem. Ever. No chains, no whips - just submission on your part. And," I showed him the silk scarves I'd been concealing behind my back, "these."

 

With an audible gulp, he moved back a step. "Don' know, Logan," he said hesitantly.

 

"I ain't inta pain, Rem. Wanna make ya feel good like you've never felt before," I promised soberly. "Look, we'll use a safe word. If I scare ya too much or hurt ya in any way, just say the word and I'll stop."

 

"Jus' like dat?"

 

"Yep. You say... ummm... 'stop'... no, you have to say it in French." I waited.

 

"'Arret'," he supplied.

 

"Fine. Ya say that, and I'll untie ya and leave."

 

"Y' won' get angry?"

 

"No, I won't. Look, bondage games ain't for everyone. And, no one plays the game the same way. The control is what turns me on. Having it. Watching you as you lose yers. If ya trust me enough ta hand that control over, I... I think ya'll like it. But, if not we just forget the whole thing. No harm, no foul."

 

Still, he hesitated, chewing on his lower lip in indecision. "I watch, Remy. I listen. I hear more that anyone knows. Ya got a rep, kid. That's what they're fucking. I wanna show you that at least one person sees behind the mask you wear. Yer pleasure, no more, Remy LeBeau. *That's* what this is about tonight."

 

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "'Kay, Logan. Remy'll try."

 

"Then come on over here," I said softly, afraid to spook him at this point.

 

His feet dragged as he approached me slowly. "Logan-"

 

"Shhh," I murmured, rising to my feet. "Relax, kid." Soothingly, I rubbed his shoulders as I leaned forward to nuzzle at his neck. "Mmmm, you taste good."

 

"Ah... Merci?"

 

His voice was shaky but he tilted his head to one side, silently asking me to continue.

 

So far, so good.

 

"Remy, I'm going ta undress ya and tie ya ta those handy posts on yer bed. All ya have ta do is keep quiet and enjoy what I do to ya."

 

He shivered. "Quiet? Y' mean I can' talk?"

 

I moved my oral attentions along his jawline. "Yep. That's the only rule, Rem, no talking. Appreciative noises are welcome, though." A thought occurred. "Ya ain't a talker in bed, are ya?"

 

"Non," he whispered.

 

"A screamer?"

 

"Ummm-"

 

It was waaay too soon for a gag, this being his first time. Toys would come later, if there was a 'later'. I shrugged and chuckled. "Okay, then. If ya get the urge to yell, let me know - I'll muffle ya with my hand."

 

"Mon Dieu," he said weakly.

 

I couldn't wait to see his body, so I started undressing him, as slowly as possible under the circumstances. Christ! Long and lean and just downright beautiful, he made my mouth water in anticipation. Once he was naked, I led him to the bed and guided him down to lie against the pillows. Once he was arranged to my satisfaction, I stepped back to view him in appreciative silence.

 

"Christ, Rem! Yer one beautiful man."

 

He shyly looked away, then turned back and opened his mouth to speak. "One word, Remy," I reminded him. "Say 'arret' and this ends right now."

 

I took the negative shake of his head to mean I should continue.

 

"Okay, then." Holding up the scarves, I raised one eyebrow. "Ready?"

 

His nod was hesitant, but his arms and legs readily moved towards the bedposts. I tied his right arm, then watched him test the knot and strength of the fabric. I smelled his sudden fear and sat on the edge of the mattress. "This," I held up the free end of the scarf, "is a quick release knot. One pull and yer free."

 

Reassured, he sighed and relaxed. I took several moments to reward him by investigating every square inch of his arm. Each nibble, lick and kiss was greeted with sighs and moans. Once I'd finished sucking on each of his fingers, I moved on. His other three limbs received equal time, to his enthusiastic response.

 

"You okay, there, kiddo?"

 

"Oui."

 

The blush that followed his lapse was just so damned cute... I could only glare at him in mock anger and shake my head. "I'll give ya that one fer free. Just don't let it happen again."

 

Chagrined, he nodded.

 

Snorting at my leniency, I headed into the bathroom. "Gonna go wash up," I told him. Grinning, I couldn't help but tease, "Don't leave while I'm gone."

 

***

 

Remy:

 

Oooh. That bastard. That no good, smart-assed, smug *bastard*. Helpless, I waited for Logan to come back, eager to get this show on the road.

 

When he returned - after taking a *very* long time to 'clean up' - he was naked. Merde! I'd seen him in the locker room - and in that form-fitting uniform we all wore on missions. This, though... God above, there was something so different - so intimate - about seeing him naked, erect, and staring at my body with lust clear in his eyes!

 

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to touch him. The fur on his chest fascinated me, as did his muscled frame, covered with golden skin and... hair. I briefly tried to recall if any of my past lovers' had been this hairy. No. No, they hadn't. I wondered why I'd never realized how much body hair turned me on. Why hadn't I known this about myself?

 

With fists clenched around the fabric binding my wrists, I watched his approach with mixed dread and anticipation. My breathing increased as he moved closer, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out on my skin, a rash of goosebumps covering my skin as my nipples hardened.

 

Logan paused at the edge of my bed. "Mine," he breathed. "All mine."

 

I had no argument with that.

 

Lowering himself to sit on the mattress beside me, he reached out one hand, trailing the fingers across my chest. To my shame, I couldn't help but flinch at his touch.

 

He paused, lifting his eyes to meet mine and regarding me seriously. "One word," he reminded.

 

Unable to speak, I lowered my shields and let him feel how much I wanted this, despite my hesitation and fear.

 

"Good," he purred. "Excellent."

 

I swallowed heavily and averted my eyes, waiting to see what he'd do next.

 

"Ya sure, kid? Ya do trust that I won't hurt ya, right?"

 

Surprised by the clear doubt in his voice, I turned my head to meet his eyes. Speech was beyond me, so I nodded and opened my eyes wide in an unspoken plea. Again, I sent him a pulse of need and want and excitement.

 

"Okay, kid. I ain't gonna keep ya waiting this time." With a light touch, Logan started to skim his fingers over me. Starting at the top - my face - and slowly working his way down, he stroked every available inch of my skin with one notable exception. Very deftly, he avoided my genitals, grinning widely at the incoherent sounds I couldn't control.

 

When I arched pleadingly, silently begging him to touch me *there*, he shook his head. "All in good time," he said. "We don't want to rush things now, do we?"

 

Oh yes, we do, I screamed inwardly. We want very much to rush things.

 

And that was the last coherent thought my poor brain produced. His surprisingly soft fingers were followed by his lips, tongue and teeth. I writhed and panted each time he located a previously unknown hot spot on my skin. Straining at the restraints, not trying to escape, reveling in his attentions, accepting that all he wanted from me was my pleasured response, a far corner of my mind knew that I'd have marks on my wrists in the morning. I just couldn't bring myself to care. The knowing smirk I'd undoubtedly receive from Scott was the last thing on my mind.

 

Logan was right, you see. Once I gave in to the restraints and allowed it to be all about *me*...

 

"Ready, kid?"

 

I had lost the ability to understand coherent speech, so I just nodded automatically. When his hot, hot mouth engulfed my cock, I yelled with surprised pleasure. Only later, once my brain was no longer mush, did I realize that he'd done this before. I couldn't have cared less. Silently, fervently, I thanked every man he'd practiced on, learned from.

 

Orgasm gathered low in my belly, and I whimpered pleadingly.

 

Logan redoubled his efforts, grunting encouragement, and I was airborne. Nothing existed for me except his mouth, his tongue, the sounds he made. He felt it coming and covered my mouth with one hand, muffling my screams of ecstasy.

 

"Logan," I begged once I'd regained the power of speech, "fuck me."

 

Shaking his head and grinning, Logan methodically released my restraints. "Not this time. We'll work up to that in time."

 

"Non," I protested. "I wan' t' watch... while you come inside of me."

 

"Sorry, darlin'. Aside from the fact that I came when ya did, I won't push ya. When yer ready, we'll fuck."

 

"Y' came? 'Cause o' Remy?"

 

"Sure did," he confirmed.

 

"Den... I... this... it was good?"

 

With a snort, Logan rolled of off the bed. "Don't ask stupid questions, kid," he grumbled as he sauntered into the bathroom.

 

"Y'll wan' t' do dis 'gain, cher?"

 

No response, just the sounds of water running and splashing.

 

My stomach threatened to drop right through the floor at his nonanswer when Logan walked back into the bedroom and stood at my beside, staring at me intently. Before I could panic,, he spoke, "I'll be back," he said shortly. He climbed into bed and pulled me into his arms. "Now, go ta sleep, Cajun."

 

"Y're stayin?"

 

"Fer now. I don't sleep well, so don't be surprised if I'm gone when you wake in the morning."

 

I carefully arranged the blanket and pillow to my satisfaction, snuggled against Logan's chest, and fell asleep.


End file.
